Want You
by Michy Drarry Shipper
Summary: All they want is to be together. But in times of war, when honesty is taboo and the Dark Lord owns their souls, how can they stay true to one another? The evolution of Barty and Regulus' relationship.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter.

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Sexual references, mentions of torture and death, alternating 1st person POVs

**Dedication:** Written for the gorgeous Emma, aka APhoenixRising, as part of the _Fic Exchange of Epic Proportions. _Hope you enjoy!

**A/N: **This is really different from how I usually write. I haven't published anything for a while, but this just came to me, and I actually really enjoyed writing it. Each section is written in a different tone from each other section.

* * *

_**i.**_

_I want to know you better, every part of you. Strip off your mask, all your pretence, and study you. Memorise the curves and edges of your body, the taste of your skin, the smell of your hair, the tone of your voice. I want to get inside that head of yours, Regulus. It's unfair, so unfair, that you're blocking me out, when you've already barged your way into the innermost chamber of my heart._

_._

We all wear it, the mask. We Purebloods, more than anyone else; we Blacks, especially. It's important to appear as a united front, important to seem confident in our superiority. Some of us reject it, throw it away, seeing it as suffocating, strangling, a burden. I cling to it. Without this polished exterior, my despicable inside would be exposed. It protects me, but more importantly, it protects you.

.

_If you hadn't noticed, Reg, I'm no angel either. In fact, I'm worse than the lot of you. You were born into this lifestyle, this ideology – I chose it. _Chose _it, Reg. And I don't regret it. Because it led me to you. Let me in, let me love you._

_._

I've never let anyone in. Maybe before the walls were built, when I was a child with missing teeth and a lisp, before I understood the difference between kids from the right sort of family and wrong sort of family, I was whole, and anyone and everyone could see me. But that was a long time ago and I'm not the same person. I'm brittle and bitter and I don't know anything anymore. You don't want to get involved with this shit, Barty.

.

_You're wrong. You're beautiful and smart and brilliant, Reg, but you couldn't be more wrong. There is nothing I want more in this world than to get involved. I want all of you, the good, the bad and the ugly. I want to kiss away the tears when they run down your cheeks, to bleed hot red when you dig your nails into my back. I want to drink the poison words you spit when you vent your rage and absorb your searing white hate, your stomach churning hurt. I want my voice to go hoarse from screaming your name, want your scent to linger on my clothes even when we're apart. Don't pretend to know what I want, Reg. Don't make me out to be the innocent party, the victim, the fool. I know what I'm doing and I know what I'm saying. I want _you_. What do _you_ want?_

_._

I don't know… I really don't know. How do you know, how can you be sure of what you want, when you don't even know me?

.

_I do know you._

.

But I don't even know me.

.

_What do you want?_

.

I… I want you to be happy.

.

_You want _me_ to be happy?_

.

Yes. You deserve to be happy, Barty.

.

_Then make me happy. Let me love you._

.

I don't want to hurt you.

.

_Please._

.

Barty…

.

_Yes?_

.

Okay.

.

_**ii.**_

He thinks we're doing the right thing. I never questioned it before. Even when Sirius left, even when receiving the Mark, the Dark Lord's branding, hurt so much that I wished for death, even when we fought against people who were with us at school. Through all that, I gritted my teeth and kept my head down, feeling uneasy, but resolved. I accepted that it was just the way things were, the way I had to be.

I'm trying, I'm really trying to keep believing. But with every Mudblood I slaughter and Blood Traitor I torture, I feel dirtier and more disillusioned. I feel myself trying to pull away from the path my family set me on. But I'm closed in from every side. We're all bound by our dark vows. My parents, my cousins, my _friends_. And of course, Barty. Once a servant of the Dark Lord, always a servant. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. And I don't want to, because that would mean leaving him.

…

I never knew what love was. It's not as if my parents loved each other, not really. Purebloods rarely do, not with our arranged marriages, that serve to strengthen strategic ties between families, not romantic ties between people. I never cared. I became a Death Eater to escape from the nauseating hypocrisy of my father and his cronies, to help the Dark Lord cleanse our world of filth. I wanted to spur the revolution, not fall in love.

But I did. And amazingly, Reg loves me back. I see the stars in his eyes. I would do anything for him, anything at all. He let me in, gave me a chance, and I won't ever take that for granted.

The Dark Lord knows the secrets of immortality, and if I prove myself to be his most faithful servant, he'll share them with us. And we'll rule the world, Reg and I. We'll share eternity together.

.

_**iii.**_

I'm lying here on my side, one arm propping up my head, the other hanging over your shoulder. You're snoring, your face turned towards me. I can feel your back rising with every breath, your snores reverberating from you ribcage through my hand. Your chin is shadowed with whiskers barely breaking the skin, and your mouth's hanging open just enough for your exhalations to warm my bare chest. Your hair is mussed messily over your eyes, and my fingers itch to thread through your soft curls, but I hold back, because I know that that would wake you. I can smell minty toothpaste on your breath, and lemony washing powder on your singlet and some implacable, intoxicating scent that must be infused into your body, because it follows you everywhere. Words can't describe how peaceful you make me feel right now, Barty. I could watch you like this forever. Why can't we stay like this forever?

.

_**iv.**_

It's only in the dark that Regulus is real. Even when we're alone, he is guarded, distant, until we're in the dark. Douse the lanterns and he comes alive. In the shadows, he is all passion, all mine, as if he's been locked up all day, only to be let loose at night.

His eyes glow, reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window, as he stares me up and down, biting his lip in a way that makes me shiver. He reaches out his hand, thumb trailing a tingling line down my cheek, brushing over my mouth. He swallows, tongue darting over his bottom lip. My breath catches in my throat as he shrugs off his cloak, then my heart races and I can barely breathe as he pushes me back onto the bed, my shirt bunched in his fists. His legs straddle my lap as we tip horizontally. He is so warm, I can't wait to shed the fabric that keeps as apart. I stare into his eyes, mere inches above mine, gorgeous, amber eyes, alight with want, fixed on me, as if I'm the only person in the world. I snake my hands greedily around his neck and draw his face to mine.

He leans to the side of my head, his hot breath glossing over my ear, as he whispers, "What do you want, Barty?"

It's the question we always ask each other. His answer is always the same. He wants me to be happy. And it's impossible not to be happy when he's with me in the dark. When he is himself, the real self that only I get to see. And my answer is always the same, too. I want _him_.

…

Everything is too bright in the light, too terrifyingly lucid. I blend into my façade during the day, going through the motions, untouched, until night falls. It's only in the dark that I can come out. Barty lets me be free. I can show him my fear, my anger, my lust. He takes it all without question, without judgement. He looks so enraptured when I hold him, when I tell him what he means to me, as if I'm doing him a favour. As if he doesn't know that it's he who's doing me the favour, that he's the only reason I haven't given in to the blackness eating me from the inside out.

There's only one thing that I won't share, one burden I don't dare ask Barty to bear. I may not have betrayed our side yet, but in my heart, I am already a traitor. I don't want us to win; I don't believe in our cause and I never did. But the only escape from this life is death and I can't leave him. I can't.

.

_**v.**_

I race to our room, breathless from the sprint up the stairs. We've been out on separate missions for the past three days, and I ache to see him. I pause outside, hand hovering over the handle as I steady myself. I take a deep breath and open the door. The room is pitch black, the moonlight blocked by heavy drapes over the window, as I step inside and close the door behind me. Everything is in order, the bed made, the books on the bookshelves neat, my clothes peeking out of the chest of drawers in the corner. Except no Regulus. I hear the half-muted sound of rushing water emanating from the bathroom. There's no light shining out from the crack under the en suite door, and my mouth goes dry. Shakily, I approach the bathroom, listening for movement from within.

I knock, but there is no sound, save for the shower.

"Reggie?" I call, but my voice comes out in a rasp.

I clear my throat. "Reg?"

Still no answer. The door is locked, so I hastily pull out my wand, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicks and I shove the door open. "Lumos."

I make it across the tiled floor in two steps and fling open the steamy shower door.

I gasp.

He's curled against the shower wall, still in his singlet and underwear, heaving with sobs.

I kneel down beside him, water rushing between us, as I put an arm around his shoulder.

"Wha-what's wrong?" I stammer, feeling sick when he doesn't look up. "Baby, what's wrong, what happened?"

He buries his face in my drenched shirt, tears indistinguishable from the shower water as he continues shuddering. I shut off the water and mutter drying spells over us, then summon a towel to wrap around him. He doesn't stop crying, and I hold him, rocking our bodies from side to side, making shushing sounds as we sit on the wet shower floor in the dark.

"I can't – can't do this anymore," he chokes.

"What?"

He struggles to get his breathing under control and I squeeze his shoulders in a reassuring hug.

"We raided a Mudblood family's house today," he whispers. "The man, he works – worked – for the Ministry, quite high up on the hierarchy… We ransacked them, burnt their house to the ground."

This is nothing unusual. I wait unsurely for him to continue.

"There were kids, Barty," he whispers. "Mudbloods, filthy scum and all that, but they were still kids. And we let them burn, watched them die."

…

I look up at Barty, but he avoids my gaze. His mouth opens, then closes and he sighs and hugs me tighter.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Reg."

My heart clenches painfully in my chest, and I blink back stinging tears. Doesn't he care about those kids? He's sorry that I saw it, because he doesn't want me to be upset, but he is sorry that they died, that they suffered in the most horrendous way imaginable? They were trapped in the flames, suffocated by the smoke. I can still see the little girl's wide, petrified eyes, hear her strangled screams. Her blood is on my hands.

Barty guides me out of the bathroom, finishes drying me off, and helps dress me in new underwear. I sit on the end of the bed as he strips off and changes into boxers. He climbs into bed, and gently guides me under the covers. We lie silently in the dark, air heavy around us. He drapes an arm over me and I stiffen. For the first time since we started sharing a bed, I turn away from him, and face the wall. He inhales sharply, but I don't roll back around. I don't want to see him tonight.

.

_**vi.**_

Something's changed. Regulus no longer comes out in the dark. He stays hidden; the mask he used to let fall at night is now permanent. He won't look me in the eye and the lack of contact hurts more than if he had stabbed me. I told him I could take whatever he threw at me, that I wasn't afraid of the pain. He told me he didn't want to hurt me and I said he never could. But I lied. He's hurting me now, more than I could have ever thought possible. I just want him to trust me, to tell me what's really bothering him. I'm losing him and I can't stand it.

.

_**vii.**_

I need to give him a chance. Test him, to see if he might be swayed. It goes against everything he believes in, everything I know about him, but I have to try. I can't leave without trying.

A tempus charm reveals it's early morning. I open the curtains with a flick of my wand, and sit up against the bed head, cushioned by my pillow. I give in to the urge to play with his hair, letting the curls run through my fingers, wondering at the different tints revealed by the sun, feeling the heat from his head warm my hand. He yawns and blinks groggily, then props his chin on his fist, and rubs his eyes. He looks up at me, and I smile.

His eyes go wide and he sits up quickly, not breaking eye contact, as he cautiously shuffles closer to me.

"Reg?" he breathes.

"Morning, beautiful," I say, as I lean in to kiss his cheek.

When I pull back, he looks so happy, so relieved, that he might cry.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask.

He grabs a hold of my hand, and starts stroking his thumb over my knuckles as he nods.

"Yeah. You?"

"Me too, actually," I lie. "I had a nice dream."

His mouth twitches, as he studies my face. "Was I there?"

"You were," I say. "We were living in a cottage by the beach. Just the two of us."

"That sounds nice."

"It was. There was no war. No Dark Lord. Just us and the ocean."

Like that, his gaze drops. "Oh."

"Wouldn't that be perfect, Barty?" I whisper.

He chews his lip and rests his head on my shoulder, snaking his arms around my waist.

"I love you, Reg."

I kiss his head and hug him back. "I love you, too."

.

_**viii.**_

I wake with a start, the tendrils of a nightmare still flickering in my vision.

"Reg?"

I sit up and look around. The imprint of his body is still visible on his side of the bed, but when I feel the sheet, it's cold. I slip off the bed, toes curling on the carpet, as I slowly approach the bathroom. The door is open a crack, and I push it back. _Empty_. I turn to the bed, and it's only now that I notice his shoes are gone. I run over to the wardrobe and open it. His travel cloak is missing.

He must have gotten called for an urgent mission. But why wouldn't I have been called, too? Why wouldn't Regulus have told me he was leaving?

There's something niggling in the back of my mind, something warning me that this is wrong. I quickly dress and race down the stairs. I pace in front of the sitting room fireplace, trying to decide who I should floo. Presumably, the only people who would know where he is would be the others, if there are others, going on the mission with him, and the Dark Lord himself.

The fireplace suddenly flares green and out steps Narcissa. She brushes off her cloak and tucks her hair behind her ears, then checks her appearance in the body length mirror on the wall, barely sparing me half a glance, as she walks past towards the stairs in the foyer.

"Narcissa!"

She looks over her shoulder, hand perched on the bannister. "Mrs Malfoy, I think you mean."

I give a tight smile. "Yes, of course. Mrs Malfoy, do you know where Regulus is?"

Narcissa raises an eyebrow and angles her body back towards me.

"I presumed he was with you."

My heart sinks and I run a hand through my hair. _Don't panic, he'll be back soon, don't worry_.

"Crouch!"

Narcissa has walked up to me, arms crossed over her chest.

"What?"

She seems affronted by my lack of decorum, but she presses on without scolding. "I said, when did you see him last?"

I hesitate. Narcissa knows we're together, but we've never acknowledged it aloud before.

"Last night. We… we went to sleep around half past eleven. He wasn't there when I woke up."

"So where do you think he is?"

I start pacing again, wanting to look for him immediately, but Narcissa might be able to help, so I speak as quickly as I can.

"His shoes and travel cloak were gone. I thought he must have gotten called to a mission. But why wouldn't he have told me? He's never left like this before."

Narcissa purses her lips. "He can't be on a mission. I came to notify Regulus of a meeting for this evening. The Dark Lord wouldn't have sent me if Regulus was already out."

I stop moving and stare at her. "Are you sure?"

She gives me an impatient look, then whips out her wand and mutters a _homenum revelio_ charm, waving her hand in an arc around the room.

"Just us," she mutters.

"Where could he be?" I say, more to myself than to her.

It doesn't make sense.

"We'll have to report this to the Dark Lord," Narcissa says, stepping back into the fireplace. "You should stay here in case he returns. Floo me if you hear anything."

"But –" she disappears in a puff of smoke before I can protest.

As much as I want to storm out of here and look for him, Narcissa's advice make sense. He'll return soon. Any minute now, in fact. And I should be waiting here for him when he does. But the walls seem to close in on me, as the questions swirl around my head, and my anxieties pound through my veins like a burning infection with every heartbeat.

Suddenly, I realise I don't need to stay here at all.

"Kreacher!" I call.

The house elf answers to me when Regulus isn't around, and he can keep a look out here while I search. I pull on my boots and travel cloak, and stride to the front door, aggressively focussing on planning where to go first, instead of giving in to my rising panic.

"Kreacher! Come here!"

With a snap, a house elf appears. It appears to be female, definitely not Kreacher.

"Kreacher is not here, Mister Crouch, sir," she squeaks. "Can Posey get Mister something?"

"What? Where else would Kreacher be? Where is he?"

The elf pulls on one of her floppy ears nervously. "Posey does not know, sir. Kreacher disappeared last night."

I wring my hands, trying desperately to hold myself together. Kreacher can't go anywhere without Regulus' permission. He must be with Regulus, or else Regulus sent him away somewhere. Why? Why would he just leave like that? Why would he take his elf? _Why wouldn't he tell me?_

Like a kick from hippogriff, the answer hits me hard. I clutch at the front door, fighting dizziness.

"Posey, could you take me to my room?" I gasp.

The elf holds my wrist and snaps her fingers, and in the blink of an eye, we are in the bedroom. I fall onto the bed, swallowing back nausea.

"Does Mister Crouch want –?"

"No," I cut it off. "Leave now."

The elf Disapparates and I'm alone.

_I can't do this anymore_. That's what he said. What else could he possibly have meant? The crying, the mask, the distance. The last few months flash before my eyes and everything sinks horrifyingly into place.

.

_**iix.**_

The wind is strong as we walk along the ridge. The cave looms over the ocean ominously and I tighten my grip on my wand. The waves crashing into the rocks are black and relentless. There's no turning back now. I take a deep breath, and jump into the freezing water below.

…

There's a note. Folded twice, tucked under the corner of my pillow, blending so well with the cream sheets that I hadn't noticed it before. I can tell from the flecks of glittering copper in the parchment that it's self-destructing. It will incinerate as soon as I've finished reading it.

I hold it with both hands, fixated on the swirling script marking my name on the front. I have to know. With trembling hands, I unfold it.

_Be happy._

The words burn red as the letter turns to ash in my hand.

…

The slimy hands drag me under, and I choke, my screams swallowed by the black water. Darkness, drowning, dying. Then the endless black implodes and there is nothing. It's over.

.

_**ix.**_

Torture. I'll make them pay. I'll make them squeal. He thought they were the same as us. He thought we should show mercy. He was wrong. I make them scream. Then they break. They can't scream anymore. They can't even breathe. The curse twists their filthy bodies like wriggling worms. Their faces contort mutely. I can't stand the silence. I need to hear them scream. _Scream for me! Scream!_ I hear shrieks, ear splitting shrieks. Black, in the corner of my eyes. I want to keep watching them dance, but the black jerks me back. It's one of us, with frizzy brown hair, and glinting, hooded eyes.

"Shut up!" she hisses.

I ignore her and start kicking the filth in the head. Their eyes are open. They don't even blink. Scum. Mudbloods. _Traitors_.

"Stop it!" she hisses again, clamping a hand over my mouth. "They're dead! We've got to go. Avery's already cast the Dark Mark over the house."

The shrieking continues. I have to hurt them more. More. More.

Her claws dig into my arm and the world spins. We're in a different house. Still, the screams echo.

/./

Days race and stretch, race and stretch. Sometimes, I remember, and times stops all together. I overpower the whispers in my head with the screams from outside. Then the Dark Lord vanishes. We make them scream worse than ever.

They drag me to a cell. I rot in the cage. My skins melts with malnutrition. The other prisoners scream, but it's not the same. And every night, I'm forced to remember. Again and again. His amber eyes, fixed on me, and only me. _I love you, too_…_ Be happy_. The words burn behind my eyes. _I want him_.

/./

It's a different world, but it will soon be ours, all ours. I'll help the Dark Lord regain his body, and I'll be lauded as a hero. He'll know it was thanks to me that He's in power once more. He'll share with me the secrets of immortality.

/./

The dementors swoop over me, and the chill permeates my core. Before they kiss me, I let go. I'm gone before their kiss sucks out my soul. I can't let them have what's his.

.

_**x.**_

Do you like it here, Barty?

.

_Yes. It's beautiful._

_._

I told you it would be perfect. Just the two of us, in a cottage by the ocean. No war, no Voldemort.

_._

_You were right, Reg._

_._

I've missed you.

.

_I wanted to live with you forever._

_._

Now we can, Barty. Stay with me.

.

_But I… I don't deserve this. I never deserved you. Didn't you see what I did?_

_._

None of that matters now.

.

_You wanted me to be happy. I was never happy without you._

_._

I know. I'm sorry.

.

_It's not your fault._

_._

Please, Barty, I need you.

.

_Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?_

_._

Yes. It's okay, Barty. Hold my hand, step into the sun. We'll never be apart again. Trust me.

.

_Okay._

_._

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**A/N: **I'd love to know what you think! Leave a review, pretty please :)


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